


Last meal

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Complete, Derek Likes Stiles, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stiles Likes Derek, Stiles is Derek's Anchor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m gonna kill you so hard, I already know what my last meal will be," Stiles mutters, eyes dark as he stalks forward.</p><p>"That makes no sense, you know."</p><p>Stiles jumps, screams, and flails at the unexpected voice, turning with his heart pounding wildly in his chest to glare at Derek standing in his doorway. The offending fly buzzes past Stiles’ ear and he flails again, this time to try and swat the damn thing, and instead, he manages to whack himself in the head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last meal

"I’m gonna kill you so hard, I already know what my last meal will be," Stiles mutters, eyes dark as he stalks forward.

"That makes no sense, you know."

Stiles jumps, screams, and flails at the unexpected voice, turning with his heart pounding wildly in his chest to glare at Derek standing in his doorway. The offending fly buzzes past Stiles’ ear and he flails again, this time to try and swat the damn thing, and instead, he manages to whack himself in the head.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, coolly judging him for his lack of ninja fly-swatting skills, and Stiles rubbed at his throbbing ear, glaring back at Derek as the fly buzzed past yet again. Stiles mutters things under his breath about the disgusting thing, and Derek rolls his eyes, blue colour sliding in a second later and he stalks forward, snatches the fly out of mid-air, Stiles gaping at him wordlessly. Derek doesn’t even acknowledge the gaping fish motion Stiles has got going on, and moves across to the window to let the fly out. Stiles is still gaping when Derek closes the window after the tiny creature escapes, and Derek shakes his head at him.

"That was _awesome!_ " Stiles says, grinning broadly and his brain finally catching up.

"It was a fly, Stiles, not exactly bringing about world peace here."

"I was just gonna kill it, you know. You saved that lil’ bug’s life."

Derek snorts at that. “You’d have to catch it before knocking yourself out, Stilinski. In that regard, I think you would have been bested by a fly.”

"Wow, Der, my feelings are actually hurt," Stiles deadpans.

"Obviously not if you’re calling me _Der_ ,” he replies, rolling his eyes again. “You have a minute?” Derek asks, realising he actually came to Stiles for something.

"For you? I have three."

"Lucky me."

"You know it. So, what’s up, Der?"

"There’s a new movie out tomorrow, thought you’d like to see it. Uh, with me, that is," Derek adds, confidence slipping slightly because it’s been forever since he’s actually been the person to ask someone out.

Usually, he and whoever he’s interested in just end up in bed together. With Stiles though, it’s a little different, and he feels like he’s sixteen again, terrified with sweaty palms and a dry mouth.

"Whoa, what? You… You’re interested in me? Like _really?_ Interested with kissing and naked sexy times? Or is this a pack bonding thing, and everyone’s going?” Stiles asks, eyes narrowing briefly.

"Interested with kissing and naked sexy times, Stiles," Derek clarifies, and his voice doesn’t break on _naked sexy times_ , except it totally does.

Stiles does a fist pump and an actual weird dance of happiness (Derek assumes this by the huge grin on Stiles’ face) that involves a lot of hip rolling and some weird worm arm thing that Stiles really can’t do well. But, uh, the hip rolling is something that he can do really, seriously well, and Derek kind of stares for a few moments as those lithe hips roll and certain parts of Stiles’ anatomy press against the material of his jeans.

"Can we start with the kissing part now? ‘Cause I tell ya, I’ve been interested in _that_ for six fucking years. Also, naked sexy times sooner rather than later, okay?”

"O-okay," Derek says, and even he’s not sure which he’s agreeing to.

Stiles just grins at him broadly, practically launches himself at Derek, who catches him and holds him up as Stiles kisses him, sloppy and enthusiastic and so very warm. Derek’s fingers press against Stiles’ thighs where he’s holding him up, and he returns the kiss eagerly. There’s biting and breathless little whimpers and soft moans and lots of rubbing against each other; Stiles’ fingers curl into the short hair at the nape of his neck and Derek slides a hand up his spine to cup the back of his head. Derek’s anchor shifts suddenly, and he feels connected to Stiles in a way he’ll never be able to explain, and the howl that he lets out almost shatters the windows. Stiles laughs, a little incredulously, because he knows what’s just happened, his lips swollen and wet and red, and then kisses Derek again like their lives depend on it.

Stiles manages to slide Derek’s pants down before he can stop him, and then he slides down his body, looking up at Derek as he takes hold of his cock and licks him firmly. Derek kind of blacks out right there and then, with Stiles on his knees in front of him, smiling up at him like he’s wanted nothing more than this very thing ever since they met, and he fists his hand in Stiles’ hair, groaning when Stiles’ aroused scent gets even thicker in the air.

"Hair pulling… So, that’s a thing I like. You can do that _anytime_ , Der,” Stiles breathes, his words a warm rush of air right against his twitching cock.

Stiles doesn’t say any more, just takes Derek in his mouth and swallows him down to the hilt, his mouth vibrating around Derek’s cock as he moans, face pressed against his groin. Derek doesn’t know whether to move or stay still, desperately wants to fuck Stiles’ face, but isn’t sure how good his gag reflex is or if he even wants that. Stiles, however, takes matters into his own hands by pulling back, wrapping his hand around the base of Derek’s cock, and starts to jack him off slowly and surely, fucking his own face until Derek catches on to the rhythm and continues for himself. Stiles’ mouth looks obscene on the best of days, but wrapped around his cock is something else all together, and Derek has to clench his fists so he won’t grab Stiles head and fuck his mouth for all his worth. Stiles continues to suck and lick and stroke his cock, Derek’s eyes focused on Stiles’ everything, gasping in a sharp breath when he sees that Stiles has undone his jeans and is starting to jack himself off.

If he thought the scent of arousal was strong before, it’s nothing compared to when Stiles has his jeans bunched around his knees and his cock in his hand. The scent almost overwhelms him, and Derek struggles to control his wolf, to control the sudden impulse to fuck and mate and fuck-fuck-fuck until they both can’t breathe. Stiles looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to him, the little shit, and starts gasping and moaning around his cock, putting on a sordid little show that has Derek getting even harder, precome leaking onto Stiles’ tongue. It doesn’t take long for Derek to come completely undone from there, and he holds Stiles’ head between clawed hands as he comes in his mouth and down his throat, the excess leaking out from the side of Stiles’ lips. Derek growls as he pulls out of Stiles’ mouth, drops to his knees in front of him, and licks at the escaping liquid, licking his way into Stiles’ mouth a second later.

Stiles clings to his sweaty shirt, fingers curled tightly into the material, and there’s grinding and rubbing and - dear god - more of the hip rolling, even as Derek takes him in one hand and continues jacking Stiles off where he left off. He’s dry, but the friction seems to work for Stiles, and he’s leaking enough precome to help Derek’s hand slide against his skin without lube. Stiles continues grinding and rubbing and hip rolling into Derek’s fist, and he’s muttering things under his breath that Derek’s not sure he’s meant to hear. All too soon, Stiles is groaning Derek’s name, the sound swallowed by Derek’s own mouth, and he’s coming between them, hand covered in a mess of white drops and lines. Derek licks his hand, satisfied and sated as he watches Stiles’ wide eyes watching him with infinite curiosity and just as much lust. Maybe even more. Derek grins as he pulls Stiles close and kisses him again, just because he can.

Later, when they can finally breathe again and have stopped kissing, they make their way onto Stiles’ bed, legs entwined and fingers stroking, lips kissing languidly, with all the time in the world. Derek shifts so his elbow is crooked and his head is resting in his palm.

"Hey, Stiles?"

"Mmm?" Stiles murmurs, taking Derek’s free hand and biting on his fingertips gently, his tongue brushing up against the pads of his fingers as he sucks.

Derek’s brain takes a few seconds to reboot, and he has to look away just so he can remember what he was going to ask.

"What would your last meal be, anyway?"

Stiles continues to lap at Derek’s fingers for a few more moments before he pulls away, and Derek takes Stiles hand to return the favour, tongue flicking between his fingers slowly and easily. There’s a mischievous gleam in Stiles’ eye when he answers.

"Well, this morning I would’ve said a steak burger, curly fries and Melissa’s pasta salad, y’know, the one with the cheese and capsicum and stuff? But now, I’d have to say your cock, definitely," Stiles says, grinning.

Derek almost chokes on Stiles’ fingers.

…

The end. Thanks for reading!


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